


Crystalline

by uruhead



Category: Actor RPF, RPF - Fandom
Genre: Cuddling, Cute, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-15
Updated: 2013-02-15
Packaged: 2017-11-29 10:19:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/685835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uruhead/pseuds/uruhead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris could spend forever just looking at Tom's hands. He'd need so many more to observe the rest of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crystalline

Tom's fingers always had a certain elegance to them that Chris couldn't explain. They were bony, they were square, nails trimmed and skin never too dry. They drifted over the dips of his neck and over the neck of a guitar with such ease, he was sure that those hands had been made by God himself, perfect for piano or soft caresses. Chris could pay attention to Tom's hands, alone, for hours. Days, even. Finding every crease and every joint and kissing every inch of skin until Tom would become bored out of his mind. Tom was never bored, though. He could talk for hours on end about nothing and everything at all if he had a person to nod in the right places.

Often, Chris would do that just to stare into the crystalline blue eyes there, seeing the way the corners cinched into small lines and how his cheeks got big and all Chris wanted to do was to press his mouth to each little line, each little feature, leaving kisses on all of the places he paid attention to.

Every hair on his over-expressive eyebrows, every eyelash, every pore, every freckle, Chris was sure he couldn't tell Tom how much he really did admire his spirit, adore his laugh, love _him_. There was nothing Like Tom in the entire world, he was sure-- he was _surer_ than sure, he was _absolutely positive_ that there was no one that could hold his attention for so long just by looking gorgeous, by letting Chris inspect each small dot on his nose or kiss each line on his knuckles and palms, listening to the melodic sound of Tom's voice cover his mind like a warm blanket, leaving him in a bit of a comfortable haze.

The best way he could explain it was that he was being submerged in a thick, warm fluid that he could still breathe in. Wrapped up in every possible way, like everything was safe and perfect. Tom was safe and perfect.

“Chris,” Tom chuckled, seeing the way that Chris seemed to be zoning off; he hadn't nodded for a while, so Tom was getting suspicious. Tom laid on the couch with his back pressed to the arm rest, Chris lying between his legs, chest-to-groin. Tom's hands had been softly weaving through the blond tresses on Chris's head or letting his fingers glide along the nape of his neck, his shoulder blades, his spine. Skin and fabric and hair and _Chris._ “Are you even paying attention?”

“What?” Chris blinked a few times and his attention returning. His fingers tightened a little on the fabric of Tom's shirt. “Ah... yes, of course, babe. You were saying...”

Tom smiled softly, a chuckle coming to his tongue before he shook his head. “I've been talking for hours, I think it's time I treat you to something that you want to do.”

“This is what I want to do,” Chris retorted.

“Why, though? Listening to me talk has to be one of the most boring things you've ever done.” Thing fingers found their way to Chris' long hair, stroking through it softly, getting a soft hum in reply. “Seriously, darling, what do you want to do?”

“I _want,_ ” Chris emphasized, pressing into the soft caress, “to listen to you talk some more. And before you say that you're boring or that you keep repeating yourself, I find comfort in hearing your voice and getting to lay on you and look at you and just relax with you. Even if you talk my ears into running away I would go find them, where ever they went, so I can staple them back to my head so I can listen to you even _more_.”

Tom looked as if he had been touched by an angel, eyes seeming to glisten even more than they already did, and Chis just pushed himself up, hands on either side of Tom's body. They both leaned forward a bit until their foreheads met and they rubbed noses, laughing a little.

“You're an idiot,” Tom purred, pressing his nose to Chris' cheekbone, like a cat trying to gain attention from its master. “A big, strong, happy, romantic idiot.”

Chris let his mouth find Tom's in a soft embrace, eyes closing and breath practically stopping; Tom's heart always leaped in his chest at kisses like these (soft, slow, _almost startling_ how gentle they were for a man Chris' size to be controlling them). When they parted, their eyes met one another, gazes falling from intense to loving.

“ _My_ big, strong, happy, romantic idiot,” Tom giggled, and Chris just steadied himself on a strong wrist to wrap an arm around Tom's waist, pulling them close again.

“I'm glad to be yours, babe,” Chris hummed, fingers tracing along his back, _another_ part of Tom he could examine for hours on end.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this, don't forget to kudos!


End file.
